


this boy and his heavy heart

by lavendorchid



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, I am dead inside but that's okay, Julia's not dead, Post-Finale, fixit, so are all of you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 06:53:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16080806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavendorchid/pseuds/lavendorchid
Summary: "But first, David, there’s something you need more than all that."FIX-IT, because it's wholly necessary.





	this boy and his heavy heart

He was exhausted. Beyond exhausted, really, but in this state he was in no position to try and verbalise just how bone-tired he really was. He’d been checked over at the station, a fairly useless experience which confirmed what he already knew – Aitkens’ boys had given him a few nasty cuts and bruises, and the gash on his face had reopened, but essentially – physically – he was fine. 

With the check-up over, he’d finally been able to release the breath he felt he’d been holding for days. It was over now, and all he wanted was to crawl into his bed, sleep for a month, and forget. He had never imagined he’d feel quite like this again after returning home from Afghanistan, but after a day spent trapped inside a suicide vest, coupled with the revelation that his own boss been responsible for the horrors of the past months, David thought perhaps it wasn’t that much of a surprise after all.

Beneath the fatigue was an almost overwhelming sense of relief. He’d done it. He’d caught the bastards who’d murdered Julia, and he knew that Anne Sampson would stop at nothing to make sure that Craddock, Aitkens and bloody Nadia paid for all the damage and pain they’d caused the Force – not to mention the country. Not to mention him. Vicky and the kids were safe, and he was still around to make sure they stayed that way. Julia… Julia had been avenged. 

He’d been asked to report to Sampson’s office for debriefing before they let him go home. He’d considered just leaving, especially after the torment he’d been put through that afternoon, but had eventually decided that it was better to have the ordeal officially over with than give them an excuse to bother him again. He knew that once he stopped and took a breath, he’d be unable to keep repressing his grief over what had happened to Julia, barely concealed as it was. A grieving David Budd would not take kindly to interruptions. He knocked on Sampson’s door, and after her assent, was shown in. 

Mike Travis’ bespectacled face greeted him from the television as he entered, the man looking distinctly uncomfortable as he was interviewed about the Prime Minister’s imminent resignation. The dark of the room had the uncomfortable effect of making the television stand out all the more, and David felt his jaw clench as the new Home Secretary muttered something insincere about protecting the country. Julia had wanted to protect the country. Travis had wanted nothing but her job. He felt the beginnings of disgust rise within him as the picture was replaced with the smug face of Steven Hunter-Dunn, when Sampson turned the TV off and suddenly spoke.

“The Prime Minister will resign before the day is out. Hunter-Dunn the same.” She rose to gaze out of the wall-to-ceiling windows which seemed to typify the professional offices he’d really rather never be inside again. “Mike Travis, he stays on to make sure RIPA-18 gets kicked into the long grass.”  
He asked about the kompromat, not really caring about the answers. The information had done its job – the PM would soon be gone, but everything Julia had worked for would be destroyed in the process. He wasn’t sure if she thought it would be worth it.

Sampson had continued speaking.

“Some say you deserve a medal. Others reckon you should be kicked off the Force,” She paused, hesitant. “There’ll need to be a thorough investigation into your conduct. But first, David, there’s something you need more than all that.”

***

His earlier fatigue had gone, his heart racing and resting somewhere uncomfortably in his throat. Just when he thought his capacity for an adrenaline rush had been far exceeded, he felt like he was about to pass out from giddiness. A small part of him objected – _this is not possible_ – but he quashed it almost as soon as it dared to appear. It might not be possible, but it was happening anyway. He could barely breathe during the ride to the hospital, barely even noticing the presence of the faceless officer who had helped him to the car. Nothing existed outside of his clenched fists and the blood rushing in his ears and the possibility that maybe, maybe she wasn’t –

He threw open the door almost before the car had stopped, half-sprinting towards the hospital as the officer hurried behind him to escort him to her room. He’d never really cared for hospitals before, but after what Sampson’s had told him he felt as though he were coming home after a long tour. The clinical lights seemed to act like a balm to the pure rage that had been clawing at his insides, taming the beast that had almost made him shoot Luke Aitkens – the very thing that had almost killed himself. It felt harder and harder to breathe with each step they took, each corridor blurring into one.

Time seemed to slow as they finally turned a corner, coming face to face with an armed police guard.

“Let me through. I need to see her.”

His voice came out far weaker than he had hoped, hardly authoritative enough to convince the burly man in front of him, and he was suddenly grateful for the officer who had accompanied him. With the flash of a badge and a nod from the guard, the door was opened.

And there she was.

She lay, pale, tearful but alive, and looking distressingly small in a hospital bed, her dark hair thrown across the pillow like the halo of a martyr. He was beside her, her hand in his before he even knew he’d taken a step. He buried his face in their clasped hand and felt her squeeze, and nearly sobbed.

“I thought I’d lost you.” 

His eyes stung, and he remembered in the not so distant past telling Charlie never to cry, not to show weakness. He wasn’t sure if he could ever follow that advice again; he would cry every tear his soul could muster as long as it meant she was here, alive. He choked back another sob as he felt her other hand come to rest in his hair as she leant into him, his shirt becoming damp as she wept into his shoulder.

“Never.” Her voice as choked as his, "Never."

**Author's Note:**

> hahahahaha i want to cry. anyway this is probably Not Great and no where near as emotional as the finale made me but oh well :L
> 
> also i wanna say its been wonderful reading everyones works and seeing the tag become official and that i hope everyone continues to write fics bc we're gonna need a lot to get over That
> 
> also i didn't check this so. sorry.


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